If On a Winter’s Peeve a Shoveler

Winters where I live are rainy and chilly, but nothing like the cold, snowy winters I grew up with. In my current city, people get excited if there is even a quarter of an inch of snow. In my hometown, people would be happy if there was only a quarter of an inch of snow.

So one of the loyal readers of this blog, who lives in my hometown, has asked me to post a winter peeve -- people not shoveling their walkways. If you don’t shovel, the piles of thick snow make it difficult for others to walk past your property. Not only that, if temperatures drop below freezing, as can often happen, the snow may turn to ice, creating a dangerously slippery path for pedestrians or cyclists.

Yes, shoveling takes some time and effort. But it is quite unneighborly not to do so, and it can even endanger people’s well-being.

--Curly

Good Birds Gone Bad

This peeve will undoubtedly reveal me as the true curmudgeon that I am, in case that wasn’t clear before. Here, I am actually complaining about birds and their sweet little chirping.

When I was a toddler, my parents claim that I would wake up bright and early and say cheerfully, “The birds are singing to me!”

Well, Curly isn’t quite the eager morning person anymore, but I have no problem with birds singing in the morning or during the day. However, the birds who live outside my bedroom window chirp at odd times, namely in the middle of the night.

When you’re trying to sleep and it is dark outside, the loud, joyful noises that the birds make can suddenly seem creepy, menacing, and very, very annoying. At two or three in the morning, you do not feel that these birds are singing to you. On the contrary, you feel they are deliberately taunting you with their happiness, knowingly keeping you awake.
Half-asleep, you start to imagine that you are in a bad remake of a Hitchcock film.

What are these birds doing during the witching hours? Why are they singing when all respectable little birds should be in bed? Why have these good birds gone bad?

--Curly

Holiday Travel Etiquette

For your reading pleasure: a timely rant disguised as helpful hints on holiday air travel, courtesy of M. LeBlanc over on Bitch, Ph.D.

--Prunella

There are Jews in the Middle East, Right?

Last week, I was reading a food magazine that I usually like. The issue featured foods from the Middle East, which is a cuisine I tend to enjoy. Imagine my surprise and dismay, then, when I had read through the entire magazine and found that not a word about Jewish people and their cuisine had been included.

The last time I checked, Israel is a country in the Middle East, and many of the other Middle Eastern countries have had or currently have Jewish populations. So why were the Jews invisible in this food magazine? Is it a political statement? That certainly is possible, though disappointing, since the magazine is published in a country that tends to support Palestinians and to be somewhat anti-Jewish (and/or to be ignorant about Jews).

What is additionally interesting about this is that around four years ago, I wrote to the editor of the magazine. I mentioned that it was odd that I never once saw a Jewish recipe featured, even in the annual holiday issue that included references to Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu traditions and dishes. He wrote me back and said they would rectify that at some point, especially since one of the magazine’s regular writers and recipe-creators was half-Jewish.

So, years later, the same magazine has once again ignored a group of people who, while undoubtedly a minority in the world, nevertheless should be included at the very least in an issue about food in the Middle East, and perhaps at other times, too. If it’s meant to be a statement of sorts, the editors should be upfront about their policy, though a food magazine doesn’t seem to me to be the best or most appropriate place to boycott a group of people (especially a group that makes good food!).

Time for me to go eat a bagel and bake some mandelbrot!

--Curly

I Wish You a Cranky Christmas

I hate to be the Scrooge here and ruin our recent spate of festive, optimistic thinking, but you know me –- not a week goes by without me feeling peeved about something!

My annual winter holiday peeve is as follows: why do people assume everyone celebrates Christmas? It is true that many people, even if not necessarily religiously Christian, do buy Christmas trees and exchange presents and cards and so on, but not everyone does. I am not quite crabby enough to not appreciate the thought when others wish me a merry Christmas, although I would rather people use a generic “Happy New Year” or “Enjoy the winter break” or even “Season’s Greetings” if they don’t know for sure that someone is Christian. However, what is especially annoying is when people know me and therefore know without a doubt that I am not Christian and that I don’t celebrate the Christmas holiday but they nevertheless send me an explicitly Christian card or tell me to have a happy Christmas. It is one thing to not be sure of someone’s religion and to err on the side of the majority, but it is quite another to know and still get it wrong.

So I’m sorry to be a curmudgeon during this holiday season, but I do wish we would all be a little more aware and respectful of others’ beliefs. Sure, send a card to those who don’t celebrate Christmas, but don’t send one decorated with a baby Jesus or with a fancily trimmed Christmas tree; and, of course, wish even non-Christians a relaxing day off or a healthy and successful 2008. But try not to offend people by making assumptions or by blatantly disregarding their religious beliefs (or lack thereof).

--Curly

An Essay of Praise--Not Peeves

I don't know. Maybe it's the holiday season. Maybe there's something in the water. Whatever the reason, Curly and I seen positively un-peevish at the moment!

Sustaining the spirit of my collaborator's most recent post, I want to highlight an example of someone who had a forum to rant (most likely subject: his students)--but used it instead for a very different purpose.

--Prunella

Positively Grateful

Here on Peeves and Rants, we tend to complain (hence the name, right?). Sometimes, though, it’s worth reminding ourselves and our readers that we aren’t just pessimistic, cynical whiners. We also can find the good in people (occasionally) and we can appreciate when things go well (which they only do once in awhile anyway).

So I am happy to relate a pleasant experience, as I have once before on this blog. Often, people send me emails to ask for advice on the field I work in. I always respond to those emails, frequently taking quite a bit of my time to consider the questions they have posed, to find relevant links or book suggestions, and to give a thoughtful answer. Most of the time, I never hear back. A simple “thank you” would suffice, because that would show that they are aware that I actually don’t need to spend my time helping people I don’t know. But at this point, I have more or less given up hope on being thanked, and sometimes I wonder why I keep helping people who don’t seem to recognize or appreciate my efforts.

However, not long ago, someone wrote me back immediately to thank me. That was nice enough. She went further than that, though, by keeping me posted on how the situation was developing for her and how my suggestions had helped her. A final email I received from her this week updated me on how she had gotten the job she had wanted and negotiated an excellent salary, which of course made me happy to know. Also, she once again thanked me for my time and my knowledge, and she said she hoped to one day be able to offer me the kind of help I had given her. Frankly, it was repayment enough to be thanked and to hear that I had been of use, but the way she handled the entire situation was gratifying. Naturally, I expressed my appreciation to her for that.

If someone does something for you, why not thank him or her? It’s simple enough and it can help keep even the most cynical of people (like me!) willing to help you, and others, again in the future.

--Curly

Compose, Send, Do Not Repeat

Today I received multiple messages--that is, several individual copies of the same message--from the editors of a literary magazine. You see, when you submit to the journal electronically, you are automatically added to the magazine's mailing list. That's a fair deal (if you don't want to know what's going on with a particular journal or magazine, you probably shouldn't be submitting to it in the first place).

However, that doesn't mean the journal should add your e-mail address to its list anew EACH time you submit. I've now encountered this situation more than once (meaning with more than one publication). Which, I've decided, makes the problem rant-worthy. Editors, please heed the peeve!

--Prunella

Something’s Funky in the Olde Curiosity Shoppe

Here is a seemingly delightful way to spend a day off: first go to the Funky Craft Fayre and then have a cup of tea and some scones at Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.

I am sure some people enjoy buying treats at the Wee Candy Shoppe or eating some chippes. It seems quite historick, no? Personally, I avoid these kinds of places. I find these “archaic” spellings quite annoying. They seem affected and forced, not cute. And they aren’t always authentic or historickal anyway.

--Curly

If You Can Read This…

A friend of mine (who is a loyal reader of this blog!) works at a library and she asked me to post this peeve for her: people not reading signs. For example, she says, last winter, the library wanted people to use the revolving door because of the snow. My friend put up signs on the other doors asking people not to use them. She then watched the doors for about ten minutes, but many people didn’t even bother reading the signs, and therefore didn’t use the revolving door. My friend also saw one person who actually read the sign but still used the door she wasn’t supposed to.

I too have seen people blatantly ignore signs (either not reading them at all or reading them but ignoring them). They push a door when they should pull, they toss paper into a recycle bin only for glass, they smoke where they aren’t allowed to, and so on. In my office, for example, people eat, drink, and use cell phones though there are big signs asking them not to. What is the use of the signs, then?

So read signs and pay attention to what they say!

--Curly

(POL): Two for One

It's your lucky day, folks. I'm going to present two peeves in this rant!

Something I appreciate about a certain listserv I subscribe to is most members' adherence to a practice of labeling any "political" posts (it's not an explicitly "political" listserv) as such by prefacing subject lines with the letters "POL." This helps me avoid reading a number of posts that I, personally, may find boring, in the best case scenario, and pain-inducingly political correct, in the worst. What peeves me is when posters neglect to include the "POL" warning in their subject lines. As happened today.

Worse (and this gets me into the second peeve), I'd bet that the poster in question wouldn't even see her post as "political." After all, the fact that she simply named the magazine she writes for regularly (with no prefatory adjectives attached) while deriding a magazine known to be on the opposite site of the political spectrum as "arch-conservative" and "anti-feminist" has no political implications, right?

Wrong. Just because you're a liberal (or a conservative; and I should note that I really dislike the all-or-nothing mentality that seems to prevail these days--I just find life too complicated to split every last thing into one or the other camp) doesn't mean that yours is an "objective" default position, and that you somehow see things with a clarity the "other" is simply not capable of possessing. So admit it. If you're going to label others, label yourself. Be honest. Then I might have a little more respect for you--and might take your (political) arguments more seriously.

--Prunella

As Winter Approaches

I know I'm not alone with this one. But living here in North America, I find myself complaining a lot about something very basic: light. Or the lack thereof.

Quite simply, it's getting darker earlier every day. The sun has long since disappeared by the time I leave my office (and I don't leave late). It's incredibly depressing.

Every year I tell myself that I just have to make it to the Winter Solstice. After that very short day, daylight hours lengthen. Slowly, yes. But they do lengthen. Help is on the way.

And while I'm offering some seasonal reflections, let me address something else. This is probably a good time to issue a polite request to the dog-owners in my neighborhood: Kindly do "curb" your dogs. Please take them to the sidewalk's edge to relieve themselves so that I'm not challenged to weave between those charming frozen pools of dog urine as I go along my merry way this winter, too. Thanks.

--Prunella

A Peeve Between You and I

Lately, I keep hearing people say things such as, “So my mother said to my brother and I…” or “They took a picture of my wife and I…” You would never say “So my mother said to I…” or “They took a picture of I…” You should, of course, say “me”.

But since people know it is wrong to say, for example, “My friend and me are going to the movies”, they tend to get confused about when to use “I” and when to use “me”. “I” is the subject form and “me” is the object form.

Using “I” when you should use “me” is known as hypercorrection. Garner’s Usage Tip of the Day recently explained the problem:

“Some people learn a thing or two about pronoun cases, but little more. They learn, for example, that it's incorrect to say “It is me” or “Me and Jane are going to school now.” But this knowledge puts them on tenterhooks: through the logical fallacy known as “hasty generalization,” they come to fear that something is amiss with the word “me” -- that perhaps it's safer to stick to “I.” They therefore start using “I” even when the objective case is called for: “for you and I [read ‘me’]”. These are gross linguistic gaffes, but it is perennially surprising how many otherwise educated speakers commit them. Many writers and speakers try to avoid the problem by resorting to “myself,” but that’s another error.”

So don’t incorrectly mix up “I” and “me” in front of I, er, me.

--Curly

Litter Bug

While waiting for a connection at a train station not long ago, I sat on a bench. Next to me sat three teenagers. They were giggling and talking loudly and eating fast food. One after the other, they threw their trash on the ground behind or beside the bench. First paper wrappers for straws and hamburgers, then cardboard containers that had held fries and onion rings, next came the used napkins, and finally the cups and cans the teens had been drinking from. They did this despite the fact that there was a trash can not more than three feet from where they were sitting.

Those teens weren’t the only ones I’ve seen littering in recent times; people of all ages seem to think that walking a few steps to a garbage can is too much trouble, so they throw things to the ground outdoors and inside buildings, or out of car or train windows, or they even just spit gum or other unwanted items from their mouths to the pavement. I am not sure who they think is cleaning up after them, but I wish they would take responsibility for their own garbage. It’s disgusting, disrespectful, and deleterious.

--Curly

Not Another Password! (Or, Why Prunella Has No "Friends")

It took me long enough to get the hang of blogging. I do not maintain a "reader" (whatever that is). I hate having to keep track of all the passwords that enable me to do everything from reading certain articles online to submitting my own work for possible publication. And don't get me started on the trauma of transferring to a new computer, something likely to happen again for me within the next year or so.

I've tried to adapt. I've learned how to blog (right?) and I do keep all those passwords handy. But one thing I have not done is this: I have not joined any of the "social networking" sites.

Please, someone, explain the appeal/lure of MySpace/Facebook/et al. Please tell me why I should jump into something that will require me to maintain (another) site, and track (at least one more?) password/account. Something that has a peculiar reek of high school popularity contests (how many "friends" do you have?) Yes, "everyone is doing it," or seems to be. But why?

--Prunella

That’s No Lady(’s Portion)

At a bar a few months ago with a group of people, I ordered a pint of ale. The bartender asked me if I wanted the “lady’s portion”. The what? Apparently, a lady’s portion is a half-pint; I guess people assume women can’t, or won’t, drink as much as a man. I was a little annoyed, because I had in fact asked for a pint; if I had wanted a smaller portion, I would have asked if there was anything available. No, I said, I want a pint.

One of the men in the group I was with heard my exchange with the bartender. He was next in line to order and he asked for a lady’s portion. The bar-keep ignored the request and gave the man a pint.

That was an odd occurrence, I thought. But subsequently, I was offered the lady’s portion at other bars as well, even when I had clearly ordered a pint. I suppose the bartenders thought they were being helpful, but I found it offensive. Why assume that just because I am female I want or need a smaller portion, especially if I have already ordered something in particular? If, however, I’d asked about possible sizes, then it would have been fine to offer me the half-pint. But I object to gender-based assumptions in general and thus to the name “lady’s portion” and I also think it might put off men who would prefer to drink less.

--Curly

Typology of Irritating Professors

I laughed aloud when I read Margaret Soltan's post outlining a "typology of irritating professors." Any of these academic specimens sound familiar to you?

--Prunella

Laboring over Contractions

I have ranted here about apostrophe usage before, but in that post I focused on plurals and possessives. Now I want to mention contractions.

In English, we sometimes put two words together in a shortened form called a contraction. Examples include: can’t for can not, I’m for I am, haven’t for have not, we’d for we would or we had, she’s for she is or she has, and doesn’t for does not.

But rather frequently these days, I’ve (or I have) been noticing that people don’t (do not) quite get contractions. So instead of writing contractions mentioned above, they write: can’not, I’am, haven’not (or haven’ot), she’is, and so on.

Of course, if you use a spell-checker, it will mark all of those spellings as wrong. But if you don’t understand the rule, you probably won’t know how to fix it (and the spell-checker doesn’t always offer correct suggestions, which is one reason why people shouldn’t rely on such programs).

If you are using a shortened form, that means you are removing letters; a contraction is not just adding an apostrophe but keeping the same number of letters. Also, you might want to keep in mind that contractions are rather informal and should probably be avoided in formal writing.

--Curly

Guidelines Grievance

If, like me, you spend some of your time reading the guidelines that magazines and journals post for the writers who'd like to publish with them, you've probably noticed something annoying: Too many publications say nothing about what (or even whether) they pay their freelance writers/contributors.

At least the publications that state outright that they do not pay for writers' work have the guts--and the courtesy--to admit that that's their practice. And then you, as a writer, can decide for yourself if you still want to send them your work/pitches. (Many writers refuse to do so--the never-ending and often astonishingly acrimonious debate over "writing for pay" is not one I want to revisit at the moment, and I don't want to digress with a description of my own perspectives on that subject, either.)

What peeves me here is the lack of transparency. I'm not asking for an exact dollar amount. A range will do. But saying nothing--or saying that fees "will be negotiated" or something similarly vague--really irks me. Editors don't want us to waste their time--they could save us all some of that very precious resource if they'd be upfront about their payment policies.

--Prunella

To Baby or Not to Baby: That is NOT the Question

Ah, babies. Who doesn’t love them? Who doesn’t want them? Isn’t the dream of all women to be a mother?

Wait a minute. Not quite.

I have written on this blog before about people thinking that marriage is the ultimate goal for all seemingly heterosexual relationships and how that means that they tend to pressure or constantly question those who don’t necessarily seem so inclined. So this post is a follow-up to that one, and is on what many people consider the step after marriage: producing children.

People – and not just my relatives, either! – frequently bring up “the baby issue” to me. They remind me that I am not getting any younger (thanks for the news!), and they say that life is so much more worthwhile if you have children (I am sure some people honestly feel that way, but not all), and they try to encourage me by saying that my partner and I were cute babies ourselves (I can’t deny it) and that we should pass on our good genes (I have good genes? Now that’s news!).

The overwhelming perspective they all share seems to be: of course you want children, so why not do it now? Why wait? You owe yourself and you owe the world babies!

First of all, I’d rather not discuss my personal decisions under such circumstances; I don’t like feeling that I have to defend myself, and that’s how it would end up being. If they were genuinely interested in my life and my goals, they’d ask in an interested and open way, rather than assuming they know what I need and want. Beyond that, as I have said before, what even makes people think they know what is best or right for other people (and, hey, if it’s trendy, it must be right!)? Sure, they often give advice because they genuinely care and/or feel they have insight that they should offer to other people. But there are limits. Next thing you know, such people will want to join you in the bedroom, to make sure you actually know how to create a baby.

Typically, I try to avoid the topic. I say, “We’ll see.” Or I mumble about how busy my partner and I are and how it’s not a good time (their response: it is never a good time, so you just have to go ahead and do it). Rarely do I bother to point out that not everyone wants children or feels able to parent children, because when I have tried that, people just argue with me, saying that whoever thinks she/he doesn’t want children is just fooling her/himself and/or does not understand what she/he would miss out on. And especially if you’re female, people think there must be something strange with you if you aren’t busy picking baby names and looking into schools long before you’ve ever gotten pregnant. (And I won’t even get into the fact that some couples do actually try to have children but are not able to, and since they don’t share the disappointing news with everyone else in the world, others assume that they haven’t started trying yet, and therefore they lay on the pressure, which just makes the situation worse for the couple.) So to make a long story short, there’s no point in entering into such a discussion about whether to baby or not to baby; whatever I say, I am accused of being confused, defensive, or just plain wrong. Oh baby! How tiresome!

My wish here (and in many other situations, too) is that people would try to be more understanding of choices that others make, even if they would not have made the same choices themselves. It has nothing to do with my own baby decisions per se; it’s just about being polite and treating other people with respect.

--Curly

When Peeves Turn Profitable: Revengerella's Book Deal

Late last week I was intrigued to see this news flash over at MediaBistro's Fishbowl LA blog:

Syndicated columnist and Advice Goddess blogger Amy Alkon expands her plans for world domination by penning Revengerella: One Woman's Battle to Beat Some Manners into Impolite Society, true stories of the spectacular ways a self-described "manners psycho" pranks cell phone abusers, telemarketers, spamsters, road hogs, and other bad guys out of being rude. McGraw-Hill will publish and the book was sold by Betsy Amster at Betsy Amster Literary Enterprises.

Sounds good to me. Maybe Curly and/or Prunella will try to get copies and discuss here when the time is right.

--Prunella

Against Brunch

I recently noticed this "Rant of the Week" by writer and editor Jeff Ruby:

...The other day, a friend asked what my favorite weekend brunch spot was, and I realized: I hate brunch. The whole tradition that we follow like robots: rising early on Sunday, packing into a crowded entryway, vestibule, or sidewalk, to wait for a table where an overextended server will bring me an omelet I could've made myself? This isn't dining. It's compulsory eating, and I want my time and calories back. What is the allure here? Is it the ritual? The camaraderie? The hangover? Nothing against restaurants that provide brunch ­nor those that do their best to add a little flair to it...but I'll sleep in. And I'll make my own French toast, thanks.

Now it's Curly again. I don't have quite the strong anti-brunch feelings Jeff Ruby does, but I certainly have plenty of memories of trying to get the family together for brunch on Saturdays or Sundays. There were always some relatives who wanted to get up early and beat the crowds and then there were others who wanted to have a leisurely sleep-in, since it was, after all, the weekend. So we usually compromised -- i.e. the people who liked to sleep late would say they'd "try" to get up at a reasonable time, which in practice meant that it would be a late brunch yet again. This in turn meant that the early risers would be cranky and hungry, so they would eat before we met at the restaurant, while the late risers would still complain about being tired and not having had enough sleep. Then we would get stuck standing in a long line (since brunch restaurants usually don't take reservations), all for the opportunity to sit in a noisy dining room with other crabby and tired families, where we wouldn't be able to hear each other over the din, and where we would have a choice of either cholesterol-rich egg dishes or sickly-sweet pancakes doused in fake maple syrup. Often, the coffee at such places isn't too good, either. My solution to the brunch problem is easy: I get together with the early risers for breakfast and the late risers for lunch, and I try to make plans for weekdays or other off-times, so there is no need to wait for an hour to be seated and another hour for the food.

--Curly

Stay to One Side

I agree with Prunella's most recent post about the prudent use of elevators and would like to build on it in another rant about transportation. When you're on the escalator, or when walking down the street, please don't take up the entire step/area. People want to get past you and it is difficult if you are blocking their way. This is especially true if you are with another person; of course you want to talk, which means you want to walk side-by-side, but try to also be conscious of the other people around you and let them pass as needed. On the escalator, if you are just riding, stay to one side (and try to stay to the same side as all the other riders!) so those walking and in a hurry can get around you. And if someone politely asks you to move to the side, there is no need to make a face or to ignore the request. Just because you aren't in a hurry to get somewhere doesn't mean you should make things difficult for others.

--Curly

Please Take the Stairs!

If you are able-bodied and not laden with heavy packages, there is simply no excuse for you to take the elevator up (or, worse, down) ONE floor. Or two floors. Some might even argue that five floors might be the cutoff point.

Now that I spend the vast majority of my time in two buildings--the one in which I work and the one in which I live--where my official location is near the top (wow, that sounds much more impressive than it is), I am peeved all too frequently by the multiple stops I endure on my many elevator trips.

Since there are no "express" elevators in either setting, I'm doomed to "local" rides at highly inopportune times. So please, the next time you're waiting for an elevator to go up (or down) just one floor, take the stairs!

--Prunella

An Ode to Kvetching

Here is a musical group especially for those of us who have peeves and rants: the Helsinki Complaints Choir. In this “ode to kvetching,” they complain about many different topics (including one of my recent whines, the ever-increasing length of the Christmas season). And here is a report on the woman who started the choir, Tellervo Kalleinen, and the growing popularity of complaints choirs around the world. Though I dislike people playing music too loudly, in this case, I’ll make an exception: play the kvetching as loudly as you want! Enjoy!

--Curly

Reliable Sources

Curly and I can usually be counted on for at least a few rants each week (and I know I'm treading on thin ice as I write that, because I know Curly has strong views on the use of "a few"!). But in the unlikely event that we should go silent for more than a day or two or three, please do consult some of the other voices expressing peeves on the Internet. We're building a set of links to their fine work (look under "Fellow Ranters" to the left). And we welcome suggestions! Please use the comments feature to tell us about other sites where you can reliably find peeves and rants. Thanks in advance.

--Prunella

Wrong Season’s Greetings

Halloween hasn’t even been yet, and already Christmas decorations and foodstuffs and presents wrapped in fancy paper and other holiday items are on sale all over my city. Why does it seem that Christmas comes earlier each year? It seems wrong – not to mention depressing – to see all the reminders of the winter holidays when the leaves have only now just started changing colors. I’d prefer to get to enjoy each season on its own terms, but instead my autumn is marred by all the fruitcake and the “Seasons’ Greetings” notices and the pictures of snowflakes and Frosty the Snowman. Any day now, I expect to hear Christmas carols, too.

Of course, I don’t actually celebrate Christmas, but even if I did, I don’t think there is a need to do so for two and a half months. Can’t they wait until mid-December before starting the Christmas celebrations? Can’t we enjoy one season and one holiday at a time?

--Curly

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

It's always validating to find well-written expressions of thoughts/experiences that I've struggled to articulate. Over the past few days I've found two examples of such writing. And guess what--their subjects are not unrelated.

The first piece speaks to the general dumbing-down of the next generation. And the other recounts the experiences of a young faculty member who has suffered adverse consequences for her intense work ethic and high academic standards.

In the past--thankfully, not in my present job--I've been on the receiving end of treatment similar to what the second author describes. Often, that treatment has resulted from the very effort of trying to correct the sad situation the first one presents.

Which makes me sympathetic to their well-reasoned, well-written rants.

--Prunella

Department of Corrections

What is more annoying – when people use bad grammar or when others correct them? Well, it depends on the situation, of course, but those of us who cringe when others make grammatical mistakes might enjoy this article from last Sunday’s New York Times.

--Curly

Another Note on E-mail Etiquette

Many thanks to Curly for broaching such a fruitful avenue in peevedom for us to explore: e-mail. Here's my first contribution:

Faithful readers, if you will be away for more than a couple of days (I'm not talking about weekends--you have a pass for weekends), please do enable the auto-response feature of your e-mail program and inform your correspondents of your absence. It may be irrational, but the speed of e-mail has led many of us to expect relatively prompt replies to our own outgoing messages. Please do us the courtesy of letting us know that you're not necessarily ignoring us, and our e-mail messages have not necessarily been diverted into the cyber-netherworld. We just have to be patient. We can accept this--so long as we're informed.

And then, of course, please remember to disable the same feature once you've returned.

Many thanks!

--Prunella

BW/BR

What is with people writing “BR” or “BW” as the closing to their emails? “BR”, of course, is short for “Best Regards” and “BW” stands for “Best Wishes.” If someone is using an abbreviation because she or he is apparently too lazy to write out the entire closing, I don’t believe that this person truly does have “best regards” for me. Sure, it is time-consuming to write those few extra letters (though you can always have them inserted automatically into your outgoing messages), but it does make a difference.

I’ll have more to say about professional, polite emails another time, but for now, BW.

--Curly

Just Checking In

Prunella here. Just wanted to say hello. Atypically, I have nothing to rant about at the moment. But don't worry--when something comes up you'll be the first to know!

--Prunella

Tying the (K)Not

Though I shouldn’t be, I am often surprised by what people think they can ask or say to others. I myself am a curious (okay, nosy!) person and I like to hear all about other people and what is happening in their lives, but I try not to make assumptions about what I think they ought to do and I try not to pressure them to behave according to what society thinks is right. So it gets tiresome when people do that to me. Showing interest is one thing, while making judgments and proffering unasked-for opinions is quite another.

One of the most annoying assumptions I have to deal with regularly is that I should get married. Because I am in a long-term relationship with someone of the opposite gender, most people (especially in certain countries, such as the U.S.) think that means I must want to get married and that it is bizarre or even wrong if I do not make wedding plans. With my grandparents or their friends, I do not mind so much that they ask me these kinds of questions, because I know that they are interested and that their worldview is different than mine (in that they generally believe that marriage is the right, or only, thing to do), and also less open to change at this stage. So I usually just smile and say “Some day” and let it go at that, even if I’d rather that they stop harping on it.

But with younger generations, I find this assumption especially irritating, because one would think that they would have a broader range of experiences (i.e. been exposed to more cultures, more sexualities, and more ways of living) than older people, but still, many are not so open-minded and so they believe that marriage is the only option in the world for couples (people need to study more anthropology and/or travel more). Also, I’d like to believe that younger people have recently had to listen to their own parents or grandparents offering “helpful advice” and asking too many questions and would therefore be sympathetic, but they nevertheless seem to think it is appropriate to talk to me as though they know best and as though it is natural for me to think exactly the way they do.

A typical example is from just a few weeks ago, when I was talking to a woman my age who got married earlier this year. She went on and on about her wedding and then, of course, asked when my wedding would be. I said I had no plans at this time. She looked concerned and embarrassed and then quickly said, “Well, don’t worry. My husband and I were together for six years before we got married! It will happen!” I assured her, “I am happily unmarried,” but that did not seem to make any sense to her, because after all, everyone wants to get married, don’t they?

And I won’t even mention all my college acquaintances or other friends who have issued dire warnings about living with someone without being married or who have worried on my behalf about how men won’t “buy the cow if they can get the milk for free” (no comments about me being compared to a cow, please!). Why do people always assume that women are desperate to get married while men do everything they can to avoid it? And why do they think men only want "milk"?

Some of these people have legitimate concerns, such as that they wonder what it means for me and my partner that many countries don’t recognize couples who live together and thus don’t give them legal rights. But most don’t focus on that. Instead, they think that being partners and not spouses is odd, cheap, morally wrong, shows a lack of commitment, and other unpleasant things, and frankly, I don’t need to hear such unsupportive or insulting remarks.

Marriage, as with so many other topics, is a personal decision, and while I am happy to talk about it and even to debate the pros and cons of getting married or not, I am not eager to have to defend myself and my lifestyle or to always have to politely accept advice I don’t necessarily agree with or want to hear. I’d rather people tie their tongues than continually ask me about tying the knot!

-- Curly

Editors are (Peevish) People, Too!

Apparently, writers aren't the only with peeves to rant about: Editors can become equally annoyed. Ten editors shared their views with freelancer Linda Formichelli, who has assembled an e-book of the interviews titled Editors Unleashed: Magazine Editors Growl About Their Writer Peeves. I'm not about to pay $11.95 for it (new peeve of my own: overpriced e-books), but I'm amused/interested. Any speculation on what those peeves might be?

--Prunella

All Orientals Look Alike

A few weeks ago, I met a man in his 20s. He looked Chinese, but what I noticed most about him is that he had a strong accent that was clearly not from the area where I live. I was sure he was English, so I asked him where he was from. He looked offended and said, “Well, my parents come from Hong Kong, but I was born and raised in England.” I realized immediately that he thought that I thought he was “foreign” and so he was defending himself against my presumed prejudice. I quickly said, “No, no, I meant, I thought I could hear that you were English, so I just wanted to know for sure.” But I don’t think he believed me.

Then last week, I ran into a different man on my university campus. I had met him at a party last winter and I remembered he was from Taiwan, but I was surprised to see him, since I had thought he was doing a Master’s degree and thus would have finished by now. It turned out, however, that he was working towards a PhD. So I admitted that I hadn’t remembered what he was studying or what degree he was working towards and that I’d thought he was getting an MA. He said, “You must have confused me with someone else. You probably think all Orientals look the same.” Again, I stuttered a defense of myself, but he cut me off and didn’t seem to accept my explanations.

So what is my peeve here, exactly? Well, it’s two-fold, I suppose. First of all, I feel sorry for the people who look “foreign” and thus have to suffer through a lot of questions about where they are from, even if they grew up in the country where people ask those questions. I, too, have a somewhat foreign look and have lived in a country where I was not native and where I was frequently questioned about my ethnicity. I know it gets tiresome, especially if there is a sense that your background is not equal to that of the “natives.” So I am annoyed at all the people who believe that if someone looks a little different, they must be from elsewhere, and that it is acceptable to ask people about where they are “really” from. It’s one thing to be curious and interested, but quite another thing to ask questions in a nasty or prejudiced way.

But the second part of my peeve is about people like me, who are used to being asked about our foreignness and our apparent lack of belonging. We tend to get defensive sometimes and to assume that whenever the subject of our ethnicity comes up, it must be a criticism or a veiled racist remark. We need to remember that questions can actually stem from an honest interest, or they can be about something other than what we assume (our accent, for example, rather than the shape of our eyes).

So, no, all Orientals don’t look alike. And, no, not everyone thinks they do, anyway.

--Curly

No Contest

Dear Literary Journal Editor:

I can understand if you've deemed my work so unworthy that you cannot even spare a signature--much less a personal word directed to the author--on the rejection slip (a scrap of paper!).

But in that case, please do spare me the advertisement for your journal's contest--which charges a "reading fee," of course--that you sent along for the ride in the self-addressed, stamped envelope that I provided for you per your directions when I submitted my work. (Do you think I'd really pay more than I've already shelled out for printing, postage, and the SASE just to get another anonymous "no thanks"?)

Please understand that the volume of advertisements I receive makes it impossible to address each editor personally. Thank you.

Most sincerely,
Prunella Peeve

A Positive Post: More on Monosexuals and Bisexuals

The fact that this blog is called “Peeves and Rants” suggests that our posts are mostly negative. However, I think there’s some room here for praise and positive commentary, too, especially if it relates to a peeve we have (or had).

Therefore, I’m happy to post an update to one of my earlier peeves, about how many homosexuals and heterosexuals criticize or openly dislike bisexuals. This week, I was lucky enough to spend an evening with a lovely lesbian. She knew I was some sort of queer, but I didn’t say the “b” word because I was concerned about her reaction. Yes, I know that sort of behavior is silly, but I tend to be like that in certain situations; perhaps we can call it fear-based-on-assumptions.

Anyway, this woman finally asked me straight out (to use an unfortunate phrase!) whether I was bisexual. I somewhat grudgingly admitted it, and I ended up telling her about my peeve and some of the discriminatory, critical remarks I’ve experienced. She said she didn’t understand it. She has heard the usual stereotypes about promiscuous bisexuals who can’t, or won’t, choose. But she didn’t agree with that and instead thought that bisexuals are more open, since we are attracted to people in general, and not first and foremost to a gender.

The upshot of our conversation was that I had found an open-minded monosexual who believed all the positive things we bisexuals like to think about ourselves, and that was refreshing and encouraging.

Now if only more people would think like that!

--Curly

Please Give Credit Where Credit Is Due

I have to be careful with this one. Curly and I agree that we want to keep ourselves as unidentifiable as possible on this blog, while remaining true to our peeve-prone selves. And sometimes that makes describing rant-inducing circumstances especially tricky.

One of my writing interests can be boiled down to providing guidance to other writers. Sometimes I'm paid for this. But as a service to the community (and to my research-driven self), I also provide plenty of it free of charge. Clearly, I don't expect to be paid monetarily for that. I love it when writers follow-up and let me know how my advice has helped or validated them, or how a market lead has led to a publication, or how their work has fared in a competition I led them to. That's another sort of compensation.

As is public acknowledgment.

I admit that I'm far from the first--or only--source of information out there for writers. There are plenty of others offering similar information, and when I point others to something I originally discovered from someone else, I give credit (and a weblink, as relevant). Maybe it's my academic background--the way source documentation was pounded into me--or maybe it's just a basic sense of fairness at work. Either way, even if I'm framing a piece of information differently, I have to attribute the original source.

And I'm mightily peeved when other writers--who clearly know better--don't do the same. When I post something one day and it shows up the next on someone else's blog or newsletter for writers without any attribution whatsoever.

Wait, it gets better. Because some of the worst offenders (who use "my" information to build up [paying] subscriber bases] have the gall to ask me to publicize competitions they run (including competitions which charge entry fees!).

I'm especially peeved when I see some of these writers cited on discussion boards or actually recognized by various "best of" lists. Then they tout those credentials as well, even on the sig lines they include with the e-mails they send me with their requests to do more for them.

To be fair, some people, when I share my concerns with them, apologize and rectify the errors of their ways. But some don't. And that peeves me. And usually leads to more rants.

--Prunella

Soothing the Savage Beast

As anyone who knows me is aware, I am a big fan of music. I enjoy many kinds, though jazz is my true love, music-wise. Music is inspiring and it can “soothe the savage beast,” as William Congreve said. But what I don’t like is when people force their music on you in situations where you can’t avoid it, such as in stores or restaurants or on buses or trains. Of course I think salespeople, waiters, bus-drivers, and my fellow passengers have the right to listen to music; I just wish that they would do so at a volume that doesn’t disturb everyone else. I also wish that they would have good taste in music, but that seems never to be the case, unfortunately. It can be stressful to try to eat, talk, or shop to the noise of loud, throbbing music, and sometimes I wonder why people don’t think of the customers and try to make their experience as pleasant as possible.

My general feeling is that when out in public (or when at home, obviously), I should try to be considerate of other people. My common-sense rule is to ask myself whether what I am doing can bother or disturb others; it’s true that you can’t always guess that, but it is a helpful guideline.

So, go ahead, soothe your savage beast. Just do it quietly.

--Curly

Typhoid Mark

Today is not a workday, so I thought I'd share with you a non-work-related peeve. Which I have reason to rant about given that I've encountered it yet again just this morning.

When I moved into my current apartment, several moons ago, I found the building's gym/fitness room an appealing perk. Now, I thought, I'd really have no reason--not the weather, not the distance, not the expense--not to exercise regularly. What a boon!

I didn't bargain on Typhoid Mark.

From the start, Typhoid Mark and I seemed to share a similar weekend workout schedule. Which meant that in the tiny space allotted to the treadmills and other equipment, he was coughing, snorting, exhaling germs within my breathing space too often for my comfort.

Now, when I have a cold, or a sinus infection, or strep throat, I tend not to exercise. If I am to be perfectly honest, I will confess that I appreciate the "excuse" not to work out. Plus, since I know how peeved I get when sickies spread their germs to me, I think it's considerate not to return the "favor."

Typhoid Mark, who apparently has some very chronic condition, apparently shares no such concern. He coughs winter, spring, summer and fall. When the weather's temperate enough, just finding him in the exercise room when I arrive is enough to drive me outside for a jog (after I've done a bit of work with the weights). I simply can't believe it's healthy for me to be in that room when he is, and I can't believe he's not considerate enough to even cover his mouth when he coughs. What say you?

--Prunella

Piercing’s in a Mans World

Since I work with language and am a linguaphile, I have a lot of linguistic peeves, so occasionally on this blog I’ll post about various language peeves, including ones about spelling, grammar, punctuation, and word choices.

I have too many to be able to choose one favorite, but for my first language-related peeve, I’ll choose something that I see constantly and that is probably one of my top peeves: the misuse of apostrophes. In the past week or so alone, I’ve seen many signs or websites with incorrect apostrophe usage, including:

--A store offering “apple’s”.
--A band called “The Three Amigo’s”.
--Several parlors where you can get “tattoo’s and piercing’s”.
--A salon with the slogan “It’s a mans world”.
--Beauty shops with “tanning bed’s”.
--“Sarahs Café, serving ice cream’s”.
--And frighteningly many more!

Let’s review the situation. Apostrophes are employed in two primary ways in the English language: possessives (i.e. ownership) and contractions. I’ll deal with contractions at another time, since it is another peeve-worthy topic.

Did you notice that the word “plurals” was not on the list of accepted usages for apostrophes (except, of course, if there is a word that is both plural and possessive, such as “the amigos’ tattoos”)? So why do people keep adding apostrophes to words that are plural? And why do people sometimes leave out apostrophes in words that are possessive?

The basic rule is: if there is more than one of an object (apples, beds, ice creams), there should be no apostrophe, but if you are referring to something owned (man’s world, Sarah’s Café), there should be. Simple, right?

If you are going to get tattoos or piercings (not tattoo’s and piercing’s), it is important to get this done at a place that is clean and has experienced tattoo artists and body piercers who know how to hygienically and properly do the job. But, in my opinion, another quality to look for is good apostrophe usage! Personally, I feel put off – and thus less likely to patronize a place – when I see this mistake made.

Thank's, er, thanks for letting me get that off my chest!

--Curly

How Not to Ask Questions on Academic Listservs

This week I caught a post over at The Little Professor, providing sage guidance on "how to ask questions on academic listservs." And it made me smile.

For it reminded me of a pet peeve from my teaching days at Very Prestigious University (VPU). And while Little Professor's post addresses students in particular, the author rightfully notes that "students are not the only ones" who can benefit from her counsel. To which Prunella says: Amen.

For Little Professor brought me back to the days when I was ranting to anyone who would listen (who was not my colleague at VPU) about the sloth on display within my department listserv. Now, back then we were just getting acquainted with the listserv concept and practice, so perhaps some slack might be cut.

Or maybe not. Because some of the posts from my colleagues demonstrated such amazing laziness that I still feel outraged. (Sure, I like to sleep late on Saturdays as much as the next person, but come on--don't people become academics in the humanities because they actually find the work of research appealing?)

One such post still stands out in my mind. The gist of it was (and I'm paraphrasing only slightly): "Can anyone recommend readings on Famous American Novel?" To which I wanted to type back: "Have you heard of the MLA database? For starters?"

The posts also belied the idea that we, and the students who were choosing to take independent study or seminar courses in our department, also liked to read. Memorable example (with slight disguise): "I'm running into a problem with a student in an independent study on The Nineteenth-Century Russian Novel. We want to include Famous Novelist Whose Books Easily Exceed 1000 Pages, but we don't have time for anything long." (Worse, our chair, a Famous Literary Scholar in his own right, then chimed in with a "helpful" suggestion.)

So, Little Professor, Prunella hears you. And appreciates your post.

--Prunella

A Bone To Pick

Lesbians, I have a bone to pick with you. (Yes, I’ve chosen that less than apt phrase on purpose.) This summer, I read about a new support and social group for queer women in my city. I called the number listed so I could get more information. Knowing attitudes towards bisexuals in general (and specifically within the queer community, not to even mention within the heterosexual community), I thought it wise to ask whether bisexual women were welcome. The woman on the other end of the line, who had just a moment before been well-spoken and welcoming, began stuttering; she started a sentence, interrupted herself, started a different one, cut herself off again, and so on. Finally she said, “Well, to be honest, I don’t know.” She suggested that I come to the first meeting, present myself as a bisexual, and let the others decide whether I could take part in the group. Okay, so I am supposed to open up about my sexuality to a bunch of people I don’t know and then wait for them to pass judgment on whether I am queer enough for them and whether they can handle a bi woman in their midst? No, thanks.

So my feeling is that either the queer community needs to be less judgmental about those of us they consider fence-sitters or else we bisexuals need to stop trying to join the supposed lgbt party and instead start more organizations and activities just for us.

--Curly

Without Further Ado...Prunella's First Post

Without further ado, here's my first post (though first I'd like to thank Curly for launching us into our project so nicely!).

So here's my initial peeve: the use of "adieu" when the writer intends to convey "ado." As in: "Without further adieu...." I recently noticed this malapropism on a blog, and, well, I was peeved. Especially because said blog belongs to a writer/editor who exerts quite a bit of influence on aspiring writers. Out of curiosity I then searched the Internet for "without further adieu" and--steel yourselves--located over 150,000 hits. (My random sampling reveals that only a small fraction of these address the problem of the phrase; unfortunately, most are simply using it in ignorant bliss.)

Now, I do have more than a passing acquaintance with the French language, so I understand that in some extreme circumstances one might indeed wish to put an end to those interminable farewells and say, "Without further adieu...." (But even there, use the plural, people! Adieux, not adieu!)

If you're an English speaker, and a reasonably well-educated one, you may have heard of a play by someone named William Shakespeare. The play is titled Much Ado About Nothing. Not "Much Adieu About Nothing." Right? Is it all becoming clear now?

I'm so glad that's out of the way. Let's move on--without further ado.

--Prunella

Don't Touch the Hair

Why am I called Curly Curmudgeon? Well, quite simply, I can be curmudgeonly and I have curly hair. The reason why I am talking about my curly hair in the context of peeves and rants is that many people seem to have a fascination with curls. Of course, I can admit that it is flattering to hear how people admire curly hair and wish they had hair like mine and spend a lot of money getting perms that ends up not looking all that good, but the problem is that I get tired of people I don’t know (or don’t know well) feeling as though they can just come up to me and start touching and playing with my hair. It is not okay to start “boinging” my curls or patting my head or running your fingers through my hair without asking for permission (and unless you know me fairly well, it’s an odd thing to ask permission for anyway). Similarly, it’s not all that polite to ask if my hair is real or natural; if it were a permanent or a wig, I might be embarrassed of that fact or not want to share it with others. But, yes, I'm naturally curly.

So, sure, feel free to talk about the curls, to ask about them, to tell me I look like the corkscrew-headed doll you had as a child, and so on, but please don’t just assume you can touch my hair.

--Curly Curmudgeon